Wherever You May Go
by Scossy
Summary: Harry regrets splitting up with Ginny.  He goes and visits his parents graves in Godric's Hollow.  Will he make any realisations along the way?  Find out by reading.  RWHG and HPGW
1. Chapter 1:  Godric's Hollow

I must admit, I haven't done a Harry Potter fanfic in a while. So I just hope this turns out okay.

Thanks for reading, and please review.

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"_**If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign…to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection for ever. It is in your very skin. Quirrel, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was the agony to touch a person marked by something so good."**_

**- Albus Dumbledore**

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Harry, once again, clasped his hands over the fake horcrux. Somehow and someday, he was going to find the real one in his own way. Unexpected, Hermione and Ron demanded to be with him every step of the way, even if it meant delaying their Hogwarts education. The young wizard felt a pit of doubt within him; he had cut Ginny out of his life, but then she did not demand to travel with him. Even if she wanted to travel with Harry, Ron would probably protect her as a big older brother, Harry thought. Plus, even with the death of Hermione or Ron being just as significant, he could not stand the fact he could be the cause of the death of Ginny Weasley.

He had sat there in the same spot for over an hour. Hermione and Ron had taken a walk around the area, discovering the Muggle shops and the inhabitants. It was a very pretty village with a large mansion on the hill no one seemed to notice. The mansion was old and dusty, probably full of doxys and maybe a boggart upstairs in a cupboard. The grass was long and full of many beautiful white lilies. Harry's two friends promised to help clear up this house as it had once belonged to his parents, in which he was sitting in the living room flicking through old, dusty photos he had found. He had finally closed the box, put it around on the shelf it had sat on (with marks to prove how dusty the shelf was) and he wiped his eyes.

He quickly scribbled a note with a quill he found saying, "_I'll be back soon_". The young wizard found his way out and into the village, in search of a church.

No wonder his parents lived here. It was beautiful and peaceful, and the villagers were very nice. It was a good place to hide from Voldemort, certainly. Harry also liked how old fashioned the village was with the flintstone houses and thatched roofs in some area with some modern looking ones nearby. The fields around the village were either full of flowers of rape seed, blooming into a bright yellow in the summer. It was a good thing Harry did not have hay fever.

He finally reached the church, going inbetween the gravestones searching desperately for his parents' graves. He finally came across a shiny white marble stone, which bore the writing:

_Here lies _

_Lily and James Potter_

_Married for three years_

_Both lived between 1957 - 1980_

_May they rest in peace_

Harry stroked the gravestone, feeling the letters on the stone. Here lay his remarkable parents, Lily and James Potter, a couple who had thrice defied Voldemort and had put their lives on the line for their baby son, who was only a year old. If only they could see me today, Harry thought. They would see the remains of a boy brought up by Lily's resentful sister and family, always poorly fed and have Petunia's son's clothing to wear. They would see someone who had been saved by the world of magic and could be destroyed by it, more precisely the dark world of magic.

He sat in a patch of grass, looking over his life. _What had I witnessed in the last 17 years of my life?_

"So much death," he whispered. "Too much death. One death is enough." He brushed his untamed hair to one side, but brushed it onto his scar subconsciously. "They say that killing someone tears your soul, but witnessing and knowing death does so much more to you. You should know that, shouldn't you? You witnessed your friends die." He sniffed. "And now I'm going to watch that in these dark times. You thought your times were bad? Well now it's apparently going to be worse." He choked; he was starting to cry. "Mum, Dad, what am I going to do? Sirius is no longer here, Dumbledore's dead, you're dead, the Muggles and whole wizarding world may be killed off. For God's sake, one of my best friends, Hermione-one of the most accomplished witches of her age- is a muggleborn. She is amazing, just like you Mum; she showed that a muggleborn can be as good, even better, than a slimy pureblood like Malfoy." His hand wiped his eyes. "My other best friend, Ron…he's a Weasley, you may know their pureblood family. Malfoy says he's a _disgrace_ to the name Wizard. He has been so wonderful, letting me stay at his house every summer, saving me from Mum's sister and her family-no offence but your sister is _horrible_- and he is the best friend I've always wanted. His family were the first I ever met, and they are most wonderful. Oh, and Ron's sister Ginny-" He hiccoughed, clenching his teeth together, looking at the sky. "-oh, Ginny. I am so sorry. I did the stupid noble thing and broke up with her. Dad, you never dumped Mum in these dark times, did you? You _married her._ But no, I did the stupid noble thing and wanted her to be safe … me telling this to someone who was always brilliant at Bat-Bogey hexes … not that will protect her from Voldemort … why do I still think of her as that girl I saved from the Chamber of Secrets? She has become such a beautiful, accomplished young woman and I couldn't bloody see that." He sniffed again. "I am so sorry Ginny."

He cried in front of the gravestone, harder than he had ever done in his life. As a young child, Harry only sniffled a little because of the punishments he sometimes got but was thankful he was still alive and had a roof over his head (but sometimes he wondered what the point of living was). Harry had cried a little when his godfather died, and sometimes after dreams of Cedric, blaming himself continuously afterwards. In front of this gravestone, he cried so much because of the last six years at school. How he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the one who was apparently going to save this world. At the age of seventeen, a young wizard was expected to start using magic and apparate and finally complete their last year of Hogwarts, going onto some kind of career in magic (or even as a Muggle if they so wished). But this young wizard, in front of this gravestone, had to be abnormal: he had to be the hero of the Wizarding world, and even the Muggle world. And he had no adult to push him the right way with good opinion; that man was dead. That man was the most amazing wizard that had ever lived: Albus Dumbledore.

Harry still could remember the advice that was given him to him as a younger child and ever world Dumbledore told him about Harry's meaning in the world. Dumbledore had been like a wise grandfather figure with his long beard and odd quirks such as a love for Muggle sweets and strange words. Yet with these odd quirks, he was so wise, so compassionate. He knew that Slytherins always meant trouble yet he allowed them to be educated in the school, despite the fact that some had Death Eater parents or relatives. The one amazing thing about the headmaster was that he believed that love itself was the most important magic of all. It does not require incantation or a potion - well, love potion is an imitation of love. To love only requires you to believe in goodness and love itself, and believe you can love someone else.

This frightened Harry a little. He felt by pushing his friends away, he was doing out of an act of love. This would protect them like my Mum did, he thought. But in this act of love, he would be forced to not make any bonds with anyone, making him cold and lost. Like Voldemort.

The thought frightened him to keep his friends with him so he could continue knowing how to love, just like Dumbledore would have wanted to. _What a great man_.

He stood up after what felt like a long time and forced on a little smile.

"I needed that." He wiped his eyes thoroughly and put his hand through his hair. "Thank you, Mum and Dad. You've been a great help, even if you can't answer back." He sighed and dug into his pocket. "I don't have Sirius's gravestone to go to, just a mirror I can only shout at. It doesn't answer back either." He pulled out the mirror and saw his eyes were still a little red. "I guess it's best, I guess I just don't like opening myself like this to people who can't see me and respond."

"Who said no one could see you?" said a voice.


	2. Chapter 2:  The Potter's Mansion

-1I'd just like to say thank you for the review and adding my story to your list, pinkfreak411, KascityLU and animeflunky.

To newcomers, please read and review, I like to know if I'm going in the right direction!

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Harry jumped. He gazed into the mirror, frantically looking for an image of Sirius.

_Nothing_. Nothing at all.

"Harry, behind you."

Harry turned around. It was Ron. In embarrassment, Harry wiped his eyes thoroughly and brushed his hair over his face. Ron raised an eyebrow to this.

"Look mate, it's okay," said Ron, coming closer. "I was wondering when you were going to crack." He stood by Harry. "Look, I didn't hear much of it 'cause I know it's your private business and all. But I did hear you mention my sister."

Harry was becoming more uncomfortable with the situation they were both in. He knew Ron had never seen him cry before; it was something that was rather private to him and showing this side to him felt like a weakness. Harry did feel that it was odd that he felt ashamed of shedding a few tears yet he had seen Dumbledore do so a couple of occasions; it does not make you any less of a Wizard.

"Yeah, I did," mumbled Harry, his voice dry.

"Do you love her?"

Harry blinked and looked at Ron strangely. It seemed like such an odd question to come from his best friend. It was even stranger that Ron was comfortable with talking about his sister in this way.

"I've never felt like this with any girl, Ron. You know how amazing your sister is. I can't believe I let her go."

Ron put a hand on Harry's right shoulder. "Let's get back to the house, shall we? There's something I should tell you. It'll put your mind off things." He sighed. "It's about me and Hermione."

Harry chuckled a little. "It's about time."

Ron gave Harry a nudge. "And what do you mean by that?" He was trying to hide a grin.

"The fact you two have been bickering for years," replied Harry. "Finally asked her out?"

Ron bit his lip. "No, actually. I just had a really pleasant afternoon with her. Harry," He paused to sigh. "The only guy she has ever properly been out with was an international Quidditch player. He was older. I just … well I don't want to be not good enough for her, you know. She's dead smart and I'm really not."

"That's a really stupid reason," said Harry, his eyes becoming less red now. The two started walking out of the graveyard. "She may be smart but does she want to be with someone just as smart or smarter? No. She wouldn't want someone to compete with like that."

The pair laughed and washed away the sadness that Harry felt only moments ago. Ron was right, this talk would put his mind off things and was a much simpler problem to what he was faced with then.

"Okay, so it's a stupid reason." Ron shrugged a little. "But I am still scared of losing her, you know, in this war. I'm scared of losing you too mate-" His ears went a little red. "-don't think that Hermione means more to me than you."

"Ron, are you okay?" asked Harry. He frowned a little. "I've just never heard you speak to me like this before."

Ron's ears went a little redder. "I think in these bad times, I should say things before it's too late. Plus-" He stopped walking and smiled a little. "-thanks for saying those nice things to your parents about me. It's nice to know I've done my job as a best mate."

The two smiled at each other briefly and continued to walk towards the mansion, where Hermione was tending to the garden with her wand. When she noticed them coming in, she immediately rushed to Harry.

"Harry? Are you okay? Have you … been crying?" She blushed a little. "Sorry, such a personal question." She quickly hugged him, catching Harry off guard. "You know you can tell us anything at anytime."

"Thanks Hermione." Harry felt a little overwhelmed by how supportive they both were being. It was probably because they had never seen him with puffy red eyes before. "How's the garden coming on?"

"Going well," his friend replied, waving her wand still. "The house has dust in odd places like shelves and a few magical creatures hidden. It's not as bad as Sirius's house, luckily. I think there may be an undiscovered house elf that keep it very clean and tidy."

"Don't go influencing it with you _spew_," said Ron. Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Ron continued speaking. "I doubt Harry would like his house elf to rebel on him, right?"

Harry did not say anything for a moment and stared at his house. It was _his _house. _His _home.

"I wonder who reconstructed this place," muttered Harry softly. "To what I know, I was picked out of a rumble by Hagrid."

The three looked on the grand mansion; it had ivy around the door, a beautiful red door with a gold knocker. Hermione had done a good job of the flower beds by the windows and bushes that had obviously not been tamed in the last sixteen years. Maybe house elves aren't very good gardeners, Harry thought to himself.

Ron fidgeted a little, then broke the silence to say, "I'll go inside and have a look what's upstairs. I'll write an owl to Mum to let her know we're all right."

He grinned at them then went through the red door, shutting it firmly behind him. Hermione was looking at the door, her face blank. Harry nudged her to stop her looking.

"So, when are you telling Ronniekins that you love him?"

Hermione blushed deeply, and it was obvious she knew as she turned away, allowing her bushy hair to fall onto her cheeks.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Harry."

"Okay, okay. So you don't love him. You fancy him like _mad_." He nudged Hermione again, but she didn't respond. "Aha. So that's it. Or - or you know you have feelings for him but you don't know if it's love or not?"

"Sounds like you and Ginny, if you ask me."

Before Harry could retaliate, he found that he could not say anything back to that.

"Oh, and before you ask: it's obvious, well to a girl like me anyway." She twirled her wand. "I hope you're coping with it?"

"Just need some time really."

Hermione smiled a little. "Well good. Now if you excuse me Harry, I have magical gardening and protection spells to do."

"Why don't we … get a secret keeper? That is a very powerful charm my parents used. We just don't pick an idiot like Wormtail."

Hermione's face screwed up into thought. "Well … it is a powerful charm … but we need someone very trustworthy. I also wonder about how powerful the wizard needed to be to do such a powerful charm. For now-" She flicked her wand. "-allow the protection to be done by me."

Harry smiled a little; he could trust his life in Hermione's abilities easily.

Since his breakdown by the church, Harry felt like a load of weight had come off him and left him in a slightly happier state. He had smiled and laughed today a lot more than usual; it was good that one of these days came along. The happier state he was now experiencing was probably due to the after effects of crying, or Ron did a cheering charm when he was not watching.

Thinking about his current odd amount of happiness, he went into the house, looking for the kitchen. If Hermione was right, a house elf would lurk here, hiding silently in case the trio who had entered this house were intruders. The kitchen appeared to be empty but he noticed there was some squeaking from another room. He opened the door.

Three tatty looking house elves stood before him. Their round, tennis ball-like eyes stared at him, and one of them suddenly burst into tears, leaning on another's shoulder. The third house elf stepped forward.

"Master Potter. We welcome you home." He bowed. "I am Freddy the house elf. We apologise for not attending to you sooner, but we fear for intruders."

"Thank you, Freddy," said Harry, a little overwhelmed that he had three house servants. He had expected only one like Sirius had. He looked at the crying house elf. "Why do you cry, house elf?"

"I am s-sorry Master Potter," whimpered the house elf. "I was there the night your parents died, and I watch He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named kill your dear father. You look just like him, except for your mother's beautiful eyes." The house elf shook a little and stepped forward to bow. "I am Tinker the house elf. Your mother was a lovely, lovely woman."

The third house elf bowed, and had a surprisingly deeper voice than the other two.

"I am Gol, the house elf," he said to his master. "I was the one who prepared the dinner your most. Your father liked my steak pies I prepared every Wednesday night."

"My parents were amazing people," said Harry. "And if you remained in their service, I will take that as a sign that you provided them with good food and a clean house."

"Yes Master Potter," shrieked Freddy in an excited manner. "We made sure they had the best, and that you Master Potter shall have the best."

"Well good," said his master. "Freddy, will you help my friend Hermione in the garden? Tinker, please do a bit of housework. Oh and Gol, could you prepare dinner? Get ingredients if you need to with my money. Could anything you want." He pulled out a sack of money and handed it to Gol.

"Right away master." He disapparated.

"Harry! Harry!" Ron ran down the stairs, clutching parchment in his hand. "Harry! A letter from McGonagall!" He handed the letter over to Harry, who looked a little surprised. "It's about the reading of Dumbledore's will."

Harry read the scribbled McGonagall had written:

_To Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger,_

_The reading of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's will shall take place on the 10th of August at precisely 12 noon. Send a reply immediately if you can attend._

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Wow," muttered Harry. "She's headmistress now. No surprise there, I suppose."

"I'll go and tell Hermione now. Answer it. Here - have a quill." Ron handed a quill over to Harry and rushed outside to find Hermione.

_Professor McGonagall,_

_All three of us shall be able to attend the reading of the will._

_We are doing fine._

_Harry Potter_

He went upstairs to find that the school owl was still there, drinking a little of Hedwig's water. It took the letter Harry had just written and flew out the window towards the sun which looked like it was going to start setting. It had only now occurred to Harry how late it actually was; it still felt like mid afternoon.

Only half an hour later, the dust had appeared to have disappeared from the book shelves and Ron had got rid of some Doxys that hid behind a curtain, the house elves probably too scared to come near them. Hermione had tidied up the garden a fair amount and with the smell of food in the air, had decided to retire in the living room, looking at the bookshelf.

"Wow, your parents must have read a lot Harry," said Hermione in an astonished voice. "Well, they were very accomplished."

"I have the impression my Mum read more," said Harry, examining the bookshelf. "After all, Dad used to just play Quidditch and mess around. Plus, there are Muggle books here."

"Wow! Shakespeare!" Hermione squealed in excitement. "I haven't read Shakespeare in a long time. I congratulate your mother on being so accomplished in the world of literature."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, please tell me your Mum wasn't a know-it-all like this one. Well, if she was, you certainly didn't inherit it."

"I could ask Lupin," replied Harry, flicking open an old looking Quidditch book. "Ah, so my Dad did read. It's about Quidditch, but he still read." He sighed. "I never really saw Lupin as a fatherly figure. He knew my Dad really well but I just never had a relationship with him like I did with Sirius."

"It's because Lupin wasn't your Dad's best friend," said Hermione, still flicking through books. "Sirius tried to bond with you as much as possible as he was your godfather, a guardian. He still saw you as James Potter."

"Lupin didn't mention the fact he and Dad were close friends when I first asked him." Harry came across an interesting page full of diagrams for certain movements on the field, including the Wronski Feint he had seen only three years ago. He flicked to the next page that had been bookmarked: it had Chaser movements.

Gol appeared from around the sofa.

"Dinner is ready, Masters and Mistress."

"I'm a mistress now am I?" said Hermione, looking a little disgusted. "I'm not your mistress. You are _not_ slaves."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ignore her," he whispered to the house elf.

The three entered the kitchen and immersed themselves in the famous steak pie that Gol had cooked. Harry loved the immense flavour in it. It's a shame he did not grow up in this house: he would have avoided the little bits and horrible parts Aunt Petunia had chucked in his direction while giving the best to Dudley. If Harry had lived here, he would not have been thin and malnourished like when he started Hogwarts at the age of eleven. Hermione still felt a little reluctant to be eating what a house elf had cooked, but congratulated him on the wonderful taste while she ate. Harry supposed that Hermione had grown used to the fact that she ate the food elves cooked everyday at school.

"I hope you treat and reward them well," muttered Hermione. "I can't believe you're getting their service for _free_."

"They're happy, Hermione," said Ron. "They like serving him. As long as he doesn't treat them like how Mr Malfoy treated Dobby, it should be fine. Dobby only wanted to be free because of how the Malfoy family treated him."

Hermione mumbled something like "he can make his own decisions" and smiled at Gol as he handed her dessert.

Harry barely spoke during the meal as Ron and Hermione bickered over silly things. He tried not to laugh on several occasions as their amount of maturity could not be better than a nine year old. Finally, Harry rushed out the room and chuckled, hoping the two would hear how ridiculous he found them. For the rest of the evening, they were more civilised to each other.

Harry relaxed on one of the living room chairs, comfortable. He did feel at home whenever he ever went over to the Weasleys or during term time at Hogwarts, but he had never in his life felt at home like he did at that moment.

_If only Mum and Dad could see me now, living at our old house._


	3. Chapter 3: One Surprise After Another

Please read and review at the end. It will be very appreciated! (I_ promise_)

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It was finally 10th August. Harry yawned and stretched his arms, looking at the clock: it was eight o'clock. The sun had been up for hours and the smell of bacon and eggs was spreading through the house slowly. There was a mumble of "_slavery"_ outside his door, which made him chuckle a little; Hermione was still furious she could not unleash her thoughts of elfish rights onto Harry's house elves. Ron's voice was then heard, in a deep mumbling voice, while Hermione argued back in her higher pitched voice. Her voice was a shriek in comparison, especially now that she was in a bad mood. The voices started clash together, then stopped.

_Must be safe to go out into the war zone now_, thought Harry. _Ron's stomach must have called him_.

Harry got out of bed and threw on his dressing gown, putting his glasses on his head as he went. He then opened the door and froze.

Ron and Hermione came apart. Hermione looked at Harry awkwardly while Ron stared at the ground. Harry had his mouth open, his expression full of shock.

"W-Well - I - err-"

The pair in the corridor were now going near crimson, which did not suit Ron at all as it clashed with his red hair.

"That was definitely a wake up call," muttered Harry. "I thought-you weren't-"

"We aren't," said Ron and Hermione simultaneously. Hermione sighed and said softly, "Well, that just sort of … happened."

To their surprise, Harry grinned.

"About time you two silly people did something about it at last. After your years of bickering, _something_ finally happened. Just - don't ever do that again, okay?" Hermione giggled a little at what Harry said. "I think you two need a talk, don't you?" He patted them both on the shoulder and went downstairs to find where the food smell was coming from.

_Ron and Hermione snogging. That's definitely a wake up call_.

He sat down on one of the chairs, finding the _Daily Prophet_ sitting there. A cup of tea was already set out for him as was a plate of bacon, egg and toast, with a butter dish nearby.

"Good morning Master Potter!" shrieked Freddy. "I hope this is all good for Master Potter?"

"Yes it is, thank you Freddy." Harry gave a nod. "This is all very good, you may go and do other things and I will call when I need you."

"Thank you Master Potter." The house elf disapparated, leaving Harry with his breakfast.

He opened up the _Daily_ _Prophet_, wondering who had been killed recently. For the last few days, the newspapers only gave advice for certain things and what the Minister of Magic, Scrimgeour, had been doing. He was actually doing a lot of good, a lot more than Fudge would have anyway, and trying to protect people.

Harry read down the column and almost dropped the newspapers in shock.

_Vera Longbottom, aged 61, grandmother, fought off three Death Eaters in her home. Her grandson, Neville Longbottom, luckily survived with no injuries and is now in the presence of relatives._

"Neville," muttered Harry. "I better send him an owl later giving him my condolences." He then read on.

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, accomplished auror, aged 36, fought off six Death Eaters while they tortured him with the Cruciatus curse. St Mungo's hospital had feared he might have turned insane, but luckily this was only a temporary effect and he is out of work for at least three months while they try to turn him back to his usual self._

Harry sighed. He had met Shacklebolt and he seemed like a very powerful Wizard, and to fight off six Death Eaters was not an easy feat. He rolled up the newspaper, thinking that he had enough wake up calls this morning.

Ron and Hermione had finally come downstairs after what seemed like a long time, looking a little awkward. They looked at Harry's expression and felt like what he had said earlier was meaningless.

"Harry." Hermione was first to speak. "What's wrong? Not us, is it?" She blushed a little again.

"Read the _Prophet_," replied Harry. "Neville's grandma is dead. Shacklebolt's been driven temporarily insane by the Cruciatus curse."

"How awful," said Hermione, concerned. "Shall we write an owl to Neville?"

"Yeah, I think we should," said Ron, filling up his plate with a lot of food. "He's had quite an ordeal. I hope he's doing okay, he can be such a timid guy."

"I hope so too," said Hermione, flicking open the _Prophet_. "Well, apparently someone else is dead. Rita Skeeter."

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "I never really liked her much, but it's still a death. Mind you, she did do that article for me …"

"Because we blackmailed her to." Hermione flicked through the newspaper. "Oh look, a report saying that Hogwarts will stay open and has good protection. It's advertising for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, there's a surprise."

Harry bit his lip and looked quickly at his friends. "You know, if you still want an education, you can still go back."

"We're not leaving you mate," said Ron, after gulping down a load of bacon. "No matter what you say, or even if the Chudley Cannons are training the new Gryffindor team. No way." He sighed. "Blimey, that was hard for me to say."

Hermione smiled a little as she did not appreciate Quidditch like the other two did; Harry laughed a little.

"That means a lot to me. Thanks Ron."

The three silently got on with their breakfast, then rushed upstairs to change into their robes, ready for a departure to the entrance to Hogwarts at 11:45.

The trio greeted a group of people, most of whom they did not recognise. There was one man that did look like Dumbledore, which Harry assumed to be his brother Aberforth. The group were led in by Hagrid, who had a couple of scratches on his face ("Still can't tame his brother," said Hermione) from the entrance towards the castle.

The grounds were beautiful. They were still just as beautiful as the first time Harry laid his eyes on them. He would miss Hogwarts this year; he had already told McGonagall he would not be attending due to things he needed to do. Since he did not divulge any information the first time she spoke to him about Dumbledore's wishes, she did not ask him what he was doing.

The group finally came to the Entrance hall and climbed the many staircases, looking at the paintings as they showed sad faces, still mourning the death of the headmaster. They passed the Fat Lady, who was not in her painting but another so she could wave her hellos. She had a handkerchief in one of her hands and she wiped her eyes with it. Even the ghosts seem to be in mourning, and Peeves was quieter than usual.

They reached the gargoyle of Dumbledore's office.

"Liquorice wands."

The gargoyle shifted aside, allowing the group to pass into his very large office. There was a difference that Harry immediately noticed: there was one large table in the centre of it with many chairs, what looked like a lawyer sat at the head of it. The group went around the table and sat down on the available chairs.

The lawyer looked at his watch. "Twelve noon. Everyone is here. Now, we shall commence to read the will of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." He opened the booklet to the first page. "First on the agenda - a quarter of his fortune shall be donated to St Mungo's hospital. Secondly, let all his possessions within this room remain in here so the school may keep it and it can be accessed by Minerva McGonagall or Harry Potter." Harry quickly wondered if there was any significance to any of Dumbledore's random items. "His pet phoenix may stay at the school or given to someone to own. Minerva, that will be your responsibility. As for the rest of the fortune, this will go to … "

Harry had stopped listening. He was looking around the room, seeing the Sorting Hat and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. There was a large collection of books - which Harry felt Hermione may want to look through to see if it would be any use in the library or for themselves - and a perch in which Fawkes, the pet phoenix, sat on glumly. It made a sound and flew to sit on Harry's shoulder, so he felt obliged to stroke it a little.

" … and finally … well this is very odd, but I won't question it. He requests for Harry Potter, and for anyone who could be accompanying him, to seek the presence of Rose Leone. He-" The lawyer reads over the paragraph. "-doesn't really say why. Just that she is very useful." He turned to McGonagall, taking off his reading glasses. "Minerva, do you know who this girl is?"

"Yes, I do," replied McGonagall. "Except I find this request very strange. Potter, I advice you to pack up from where you are and stay with her. I will give you her address after this."

"Who is she?" asked Harry.

"You can ask her yourself." McGonagall turned to the lawyer. "Is that all Jenkins?"

"Yes Minerva. You may all go, I shall make arrangements necessary for the money."

The group left the office, mumblings things such as "I deserved more than that" or "well, that was interesting" while Harry, Ron and Hermione remained in the office with the lawyer and McGonagall, who were now chatting.

"I have never heard of Rose Leone," said Hermione. "Maybe she's an auror we don't know about and she will teach you about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Well that will suggest Dumbledore knew he was going to die," said Harry, confused.

He fell silent.

"Well, he was a very wise wizard you know," said Ron, breaking the silence. "Do we leave straight away or what?"

"We must, I guess," said Hermione. She looked around the office. "So many books … no wonder he knew so much."

McGonagall approached Harry. "Harry, I feel that you should take Fawkes. Albus's phoenix that is."

"A-Are you sure?" Harry was stumped. "Don't you feel he'll give a warm presence to this school? He's also useful; he can carry heavy things and his tears are good for healing, really."

"No, I feel Albus would have liked you to have him," said McGonagall. "Come into this office any time and take any of his things you'll feel are useful. I will need to organise his files. Now, here is the address of Rose."

She handed a piece of parchment which bore:

_15 Willow Close_

_Little Ressington_

"We'll go immediately," said Harry. "Thank you, Professor."

* * *

With only a few flicks of a wand, the trio had packed up their belongings. Harry had decided it was best to take Hedwig with him in case he wanted to send an owl, especially an owl to Neville to console him about his grandmother. He wondered if it was worth bringing his Firebolt with him as he would not play any Quidditch but it may come into use if he had to escape. But then he had apparating for that.

As usual, Hermione tried to fit too many books into her trunk, but with a quick spell she expanded it more and made it feather light. Ron rolled his eyes.

"You won't be reading all of those, will you?"

"They might come into handy someday," said Hermione in a matter-of-fact tone. Instead of going into an argument like they usual did, they laughed at each other. Harry noticed Ron placing his hand on Hermione's and giving it a squeeze.

Harry went to the kitchen to give his house elves some orders, finding them busy cleaning.

"Hi guys," he said, making them stop.

"Yes Master Potter?" squeaked Tinker.

"I'm going away, not sure for how long, but I'll be back." He gave them a smile. "Just keep cleaning and gardening, that's all. Make sure Muggles don't notice. Oh, and look after Fawkes, he's very sad."

"Yes sir, Master Potter," said Tinker. "Have a good journey!"

Harry waved them goodbye, turning to Hermione and Ron.

"Well … one, two, three …"

The three grabbed hold of the Portkey, feeling sucked in. After a few moments of latching onto the Portkey tightly not wanting to let go, they finally arrived at their destination. They had landed in a forest nearby a group of houses.

"The neighbourhood is down there," said Hermione. She placed Invisibility charms on their belongings, which had a piece of string attached to them.

They walked out of the forest, pushing branches out of their eyes. The neighbourhood in front of them seemed very quiet and peaceful, and not magical at all. They finally found number 15, finding that the gate was locked. Ron found a little box on the wall of the tall concrete looking fence, in which Hermione had to tell him it was a doorbell that you would need to speak into. Ron was astonished and muttered, "odd Muggle creations".

Hermione pressed the doorbell.

"Hello?" said a woman's voice, probably middle aged and very posh.

"Hello, Rose Leone?" spoke Hermione.

"I think you need to speak a bit louder, you know, shout" said Ron.

Hermione threw an annoyed look at him.

"Who is requesting to see her? Please identify yourselves."

"I am Hermione Granger here with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Albus Dumbledore sent us."

There was a very long pause, causing concern with Harry so he looked at the other two. There was a buzz and a click in the gate.

"Come in."

Hermione pushed the gate open, making Ron frown a little ("_Oh_! So this is what Muggles use for security!") and they walked down the long path to the door, which swayed open for them (probably by magic) and shut as they stood in the hallway.

"Very glad to meet you," said a younger voice. "I am Rose Leone."


	4. Chapter 4: The Empath

Hi guys - sorry I haven't written for the last two weeks. Originally, I thought I would only go for a week on camp, but I got bad news: my grandmother died. So after I got back, I had my leavers day (I just left senior school for university) and then went straight to California. I got back last Monday and have been rather busy, so I just found some time to write this chapter.

Thanks for the reviews - there are mistakes I have made, I am sorry. However the way Harry treats the house elves is what I thought might be done as he is treating them like his parents would. I do however agree that it is out of character. Also, thank you for adding my story to your lists - it's nice to know it will be read.

So, on with the story? I'm sure you're dying to know who this Rose Leone is … to new readers and old, please review and tell me what you think.

* * *

Rose Leone was much younger than Harry had expected her to be as the voice they had previously heard was much older.

"Are you alone?" questioned Hermione.

Rose Leone laughed a little. "I'm sorry about that. The speaker had disguised my voice so no one suspects a young woman like me lives here. Dumbledore installed it as some nice security for me - well, since the rise of Lord Voldemort-" Ron winced a little. "-I felt I needed it. The great thing about that speaker is that you cannot lie to it, so if he came and knocked upon my door I can quickly apparate."

Harry noticed she had a Muggle appearance. Rose Leone could not have been any more than three years older than the three visitors, yet she seemed accomplished for her age. She also lacked height, probably only a couple or so inches above five feet, but could still intimidate a taller Wizard. Her clothing was not ironed and her jeans were worn at the bottom, her converse shoes looking like they would fall apart. She had very tanned skin with dark hair and large dark eyes, suggesting something Mediterranean about her. She was also quite pretty.

"So, you mention Albus Dumbledore," said Rose. "Let's go into the living room - tea, coffee, pumpkin juice, anything?" She smiled politely. "I assume Minerva told you to bring your trunks. You are welcome to stay, I have a feeling Dumbledore would have wanted that. I have two spare rooms you can use - I suppose boys go in one and Hermione goes in the other - well, unless there's something else you wish to tell me about yourselves."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and blushed a little. Rose raised an eyebrow to this as they sat down on the comfy sofa and chairs.

"I could feel that connection," said Rose. "I was born an empath, one who can detect emotions. Over the years, Dumbledore taught me to use these powers and also become skilled in Occlumency." She waved her wand and tea and biscuits appeared. "Help yourselves, and please tell me why you are here."

"Well," started Hermione. "We were hoping you'd tell us."

"We thought you would be an auror," said Harry. "I thought Dumbledore may have wanted you to teach us more about Defence."

Rose found this mildly amusing. "Me? An auror? A teacher? You must be joking." She took a cupful of tea and poured sugar in. "I'm merely a trained Witch. I was taught in the holidays when I did not have school and took exams when I could. I started younger so I could be just as educated as any Magical schooled child."

"So you were raised as a Muggle?" said Hermione, a little astonished. "Why did you not go to Hogwarts?"

"I didn't want to," replied Rose, looking a little sad. "You see, my parents died when I was very little - just like you Harry, due to Lord Voldemort - and I lived in a Muggle orphanage for a few years until I was adopted. Dumbledore always kept an eye on me and he came forward to my parents and asked them if I should be educated in the Magical way. I was very happy as a Muggle and felt that I shouldn't be too involved in a world that caused my parents to die."

Harry felt a deep connection with Rose at that very moment.

"D-Do you remember your parents?" he asked carefully.

"Don't remember Dad," said Rose darkly. "Mum just said Lord Voldemort took him away. When I was about two or three, I watched her die. I screamed." Rose paused. "Luckily an auror rescued me."

"I'm very sorry," said Harry, feeling her pain.

"Don't be," said Rose, fidgeting with her hands now. "You had the same thing happen to you."

"I barely remember it," muttered Harry.

Rose forced on a small smile. "Those things are best to be forgotten, but in a way it makes you stronger."

"So," Hermione said, looking very awkward, thinking that a change of tact would brightened the mood. "You were taught - I pressume - by Hogwarts professors during the holidays?"

"Correct," said Rose. "I did OWLs and NEWTs whenever I could. I had my GCSEs and A levels you see." She took a sip of tea. "And now I'm studying at university. I apparate to it everyday. This house-" She wavered her hand. "-is my mother's, the one I spent the first few years of my life in. It's a free, safe place to live, and all I need to do is apparate every day."

"So why did you educate yourself in magic when you live a Muggle life?" asked Ron, who had not spoken in a long time and felt he should put have some input.

"Dumbledore said that if Lord Voldemort was to ever rise again," said Rose. "I would be prepared and protected. I loved the Muggle life and did not want to leave it, but the world of magic seemed so fun and interesting. So he taught me the core subjects and everything I needed. Plus, if my children ever want to go to Hogwarts, they are very welcome to."

"So who taught you?" inquired Hermione.

"Dumbledore obviously - fantastic teacher," said Rose, reminiscing. "He taught me Occlumency and bits of subjects, including Defence. Professor McGonagall taught me Transfiguration, Professor Flitwit taught me Charms, Professor Sprout taught me Herbology, Professor Snape taught me-"

"_Snape_?" exclaimed Harry.

"Why yes," said Rose. "He was a very good Potions teacher, did a little Occlumency as well. After a while I called him Serverus though, and the other teachers felt inclined to let me call them their first name because they were just tutors, and they wanted things to be more informal."

"You do know what Snape has done, don't you?" said Hermione.

"Well, yes, I read the prophet," said Rose, looking disappointed. "I just don't understand it. About a couple of weeks before it happened, he came here unexpected. He warned me that the Dark Lord would come after me."

The room fell silent, the three visitors looking shocked. Rose noticed their expression.

"Well I thought he was being protective!" exclaimed Rose defensively. "Well he was acting all weird, saying all sorts of things-"

"Like what?" demanded Harry.

Rose looked at him with a strange expression. "Like how the Dark Lord would find me of good use. I found that rather silly though - the only people that know I am a witch are my parents and the professors. And I know Severus wouldn't have told Voldemort. I told him I was safe and that no one knew of me, but he still warned me to be careful, quote, 'in these dark times'."

"That is very strange," muttered Hermione. "He's never shown kindness to anyone, unless it was favouritism within Slytherin house."

"Well I'm not a Hogwarts student," said Rose. "He knew me since I was about nine. Maybe he had seen me as that little girl. Also, the amount of exposure I have ever had to magic is this very house and the professors."

"You say you are an Occlumens," said Harry. "Maybe he was after you for that skill? Not many people have that."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry, that's why you're here! Oh, and it took me so long to work it out." She looked displeased with herself. Ron grinned behind the large biscuit he was eating.

"If Dumbledore wanted me to learn, he would have done it himself in the last year."

"But he's been educating you in something else, Harry. Rose-" Hermione turned to Rose, who looked a little surprised. "-did Dumbledore ever mention this to you?"

"Not at all," replied Rose. "But Severus, while in the last part of my training, did mention that a student of his was horrific at the skill and found me more pleasing to teach." She smiled darkly at Harry. "You weren't the horrific student, were you?"

Harry gritted his teach at the memory. "Yes, fortunately I was," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"Well, if I must teach, I will." Rose flicked away the empty cups and plates. "But first, we'll get you settled in. It's quite late so we'll start tomorrow." She stood up. "Let me show you the way"

The four clambered up the stairs, the trunks floating oddly behind them. The stairs creaked at every step, which reminded Harry of the Hogwarts stairs, hoping each one did not have a hole in them. They reached the landing which was cramped, five doors circulating.

"These two are rooms you can stay in-" Rose pointed the two doors on the left. "-here is the bathroom, my room, and the office … it has books which you may use. Like a mini library, I guess." She noticed Hermione's eyes lit up. "It should have seventh year books in there so you can teach yourselves the syllabus." She beamed. "Any questions?"

"I have some," said Hermione. "How much do you use magic?"

Rose shrugged. "Here and there. Apparation saves me money, if I'm tired I will use magic to help me cook, if I really lost something and cannot find it, I will use magic - why do you ask?"

"Well," said Hermione, eyeing her clothes. "I would have thought you would have repaired your worn clothes."

Rose gave an amused smile. "Well, I'm a student, aren't I?"

Hermione gave her a confused look, then watched as Rose opened her room for her.

* * *

The four had immersed themselves into the delicious meal Rose had cooked, made simply with simple ingredients and not a sparkle of magic: pasta. Hermione decided that now would be the best time to look at the magnificent library, dragging a reluctant Ron behind her. As the two left, Rose tried to hide her smile.

"How lovely," said Rose. "How long?"

Harry groaned. "Just today. Luckily they're not a Ron and Lavender. Well I hope not, otherwise they'll have nicknames for each other next."

Rose snorted. "Oh dear. That sounds … well, horrible frankly." She smiled broadly. "Ever had a girlfriend yourself, Potter?"

Harry's expression dropped, an empty feeling inside of him. He immediately felt very hollow and could not feel anything, not even sadness. He was just an empty shell that sat there, full of dark nothingness. Could it be an effect of Rose? Harry looked up at her and noticed her eyes close a little in concentration.

"Wow Harry, that was - horrible," said Rose airily. "Sorry, I guess that was a sore subject. Never felt like that before." She cleared her throat. "I guess that's what you feel like once you've lost a love."

"I don't even know if it's love," replied Harry meekly. "Err - is it you making me open up, or am I just doing this by myself?"

"A mixture of both," replied Rose. "I guess you feel that I know how you feel, and by choice you feel the need to talk about it. I am sorry." She placed a hand upon his with comfort. "May I ask, what is her name?"

"Ginny." Harry felt the hollowness again, which seemed to dig deeper every time anyone mentioned her or he thought of her. He found it difficult to talk to Ron and Hermione about it nowadays; the last time he talked to Ron about it at the graveyard, he had avoided a little with the help of Ron.

"Harry, not to intrude or anything," said Rose carefully. "And I know you have known me only a few hours, but I think you should really talk about it with someone. Open up. Unleash things. Very unmanly, but incredibly good for you."

All of a sudden and without a thought, Harry knocked his mug off the table. He had felt the anger that had built inside him for so long coming out as if he was about to explode. He breathed deeply, looked at Rose, and suddenly burst into tears, sinking to the floor. He didn't know why he was doing this; maybe he was insane. Whatever he thought he was, Rose thought differently, as her facial expression did not seem shocked at all: it looked like she completely understood him.

"Reparo," she muttered to the mug. The pieces came together into their exact positions. "I'll fetch your friends."

"No - please don't," begged Harry. "I can't let them know I'm weak. Not as weak as this anyway. Plus it's Ron's sister."

"You're being irrational Harry," said Rose. "They know you best, I do not. And this is better for the long run." She rushed out.

_Why was she going after them? Stupid woman. Stupid, stupid woman._

"No!" Harry screamed out. "Please!"

Before he could yell out again, a fumble of footsteps were heard and he saw a load of brown hair in view. He felt Hermione grab hold of him in a tight hug. Over her shoulder, Ron looked annoyed.

"What did you do to him? I've never seen him like this, except at the graveyard. And that was because he was alone. He never opens up to anyone."

"And maybe he should," replied Rose coolly. "What is it with men and bottling up their emotions, eh? Instead they let it out in anger."

Hermione turned her head to Rose why it rest on Harry's shoulder.

"She's right, you know," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. She turned her head back so her voice was in Harry's ear. "Listen to me. You never tell us what's going on inside that little head of yours. It _hurts_. It's natural. It's scary. And to keep that locked inside you will make you do stupid, noble things."

Harry tried to smile. "I'd do that anyway, Hermione." He started to feel a little better, like having chocolate after dementor attacks.

Hermione backed away from him and sat properly on the floor. Harry followed suit, as did Ron. Rose left the room.

"I guess it was a bad idea to distract you before," said Ron. "But I felt you had opened yourself there to your parents. I know what male pride is like you know."

"I do," replied Harry. "I just feel so - well funnily enough - alone sometimes. Without knowing it. And I guess overwhelmed by what I need to do." He curled himself up into a ball. "I'm just so scared. And I don't want to be. I don't feel it all the time, but it continuously lurks at the back of my mind. How is an seventeen year old supposed to handle something as large as Voldemort -" Ron shivered. "- and survive? Hermione, you're even more talented and capable than me and I've only succeeded with luck."

"Harry, remember what I said in our first year?" said Hermione softly. "To be a great wizard is more than talent - it is courage and friendship. And you _are_ a great wizard, Harry."

"And there must be a reason why you're in this prophecy," said Ron. "It must mean you are a wizard who will turn into someone who can combat You-Know-Who. And anyway, you're never alone, right Hermione?"

"Right," said Hermione with confidence. "Plus when all the Horcruxes are destroyed, he'll just be an ordinary human, and with a large army he will be easy to kill. Plus, he probably will have no idea at that point that we are trying to destroy the Horcruxes. Or if he does, he'll assume we haven't succeeded because he is that confident."

"Or at least we hope so," replied Harry. "Thank you for this. I just need reminded someone to remind me." He sniffed, feeling a little better.

"What about Gin?" said Ron.

"I don't know," replied Harry. "I really want to ask her to come and travel with me but I can't affect her school or her life. And I know you wouldn't want her to risk her life."

"Well," said Ron, biting his lip. "She's old enough to make her own choices. Mum would object a little - for a starter she's not old enough to use magic for a few months. She would also want her to have an education and be safe. But then nowhere is safe." He put a hand onto Harry's shoulder. "You could ask, you know."

Harry was surprised at the fact Ron did not seem uncomfortable at all, but talking about Ginny as if she was not his sister. Ron was also speaking words of wisdom like Hermione would.

"A-Are you sure?" Harry timidly asked. "I don't know if I could live with that. Sirius and Dumbledore died because of me."

"No," said Hermione. "They died because of choice."

"And my parents?"

"Choice. And don't you think you would have done the same? It's not like you ordered them all to do that."

There was an odd silence between the three. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at Harry now, who was struggling to try to look away, but felt himself meeting their eyes. The loneliness seeped away from him as his best friends put an arm each around his back in a half hug. He buried his face in his hands.

"I'll think about it," he mumbled.

"Harry," said Hermione, gripping his shoulder. "Remember that anything is possible. Never doubt yourself."

Harry weakly smiled, thanked his friends, then went upstairs.

Sat before him was his box of quills and a parchment on top of it. He laid it purposely there, as he had done in Godric's Hollow, so he could eventually gain the courage to write to Ginny. Instead, he wrote to Neville with his condolences, offering a place to stay if needed. He only got a reply with thanks and that he found someone to stay with.

Harry took a deep breath and sat down at the chair and quickly took the parchment and a quill, a bottle of ink lurking nearby. He dipped his quill and paused to think.

_Dear Ginny,_

He paused again. What to write?

"Hi Ginny, sorry for dumping you and all," said Harry sarcastically. He sighed.

_I hope your Summer is well. Ron hasn't mentioned your OWLs results yet - I presume you're still waiting. Good luck for when they arrive! We have just arrived after the reading of the will at a friend's house, and we may stay here the rest of the Summer. If you want to visit us, we can ask her if it's okay, and it should be. I've mentioned you._

_I'll be blunt - I miss you, so much. I know I said I didn't want things to continue because of what I'm doing, but I really want us to be together. Being with you those weeks were surreal, like a different life. It was like that because I was really happy._

_I've been struggling to decide whether you should come with me. I know your mum would be a bit worried - well, very well worried - but I just don't know. Can I face the fact that you are in danger every second you are with me? But in your home you're probably in more danger. We have found a very safe place to be._

_Please decide for yourself. I would love you to be with me, but I don't want to feel responsible for anything that could happen to you._

_Owl soon to tell me your decision and how things are. If you cannot travel with me, I still want to see you to tell you something._

_Harry_

He paused and breathed out deeply. Was it enough?

Before he could make any rash decision, he quickly folded it and planted a seal, and gave it to Hedwig to carry out into the night. A feeling in his stomach told him he regretted it a little, but his mind told him it was about time he did something, and that he was lucky to be in the house of an empath.

* * *

Please review … I'm just wondering if I should have done the Harry emotional thing this chapter. I was hoping to show what Rose can do as an empath and also how mature Ron is suddenly becoming - because of age, the war or Hermione, or a mix of all, is anyone's guess. 


	5. Chapter 5: Mood Swings

Thank you all for your reviews: I'll be doing an edit soon to correct mistakes and maybe improve. Also, even though the next book is being released this very week, I will continue with my ideas of what could happen in the book. Plus, I may not even get to the part where Harry defeats Voldemort/dies/whatever. I will write my ideas in a document so I won't forget them.

I hope this chapter will open out Rose's character more.

* * *

Harry rolled over in his sleep. The dreams were blurry like usual, but stranger. Ron and Hermione were getting married, but were dressed in the robes they had for the Yule Ball in their fourth year. Neville, standing nervously in his own dress robes next to Ron, held a small box. Inside it was a gold ring, making him the best man. Ginny, on the other side, was looking beautiful in a bridesmaid's dress, holding some lilies. She suddenly screams, her eyes wide with shock, dropping her flowers. Voldemort comes into picture and cackles, and there is a sudden green light, making Harry wake up.

There was a tingle of cold sweat over him, just like the other nightmares he had ever experienced. However, he noted, it had been a while since he had a dream with a green light. He rolled over again and sunk into sleep again, his dreams a complete blur.

Harry finally woke up the next morning and opened the curtains to let in some light. It was a beautiful sunny day, interrupted by some sharp voices he heard down in the kitchen. Feeling curious, he took his dressing gown and went downstairs to find the source of the noise. He reached the end of the stairs, then walked closer to the noise, finding Rose at the doorway of the kitchen.

She did not look amused. Her hair was messed up and obviously not brushed, a pair of glasses slightly wonky on her head. Her dressing gown had been poorly put on.

"-but Hermione-"

"You should have talked to him there and then about it instead of being polite!"

"And do what you would have done, invading his privacy?"

"Yes! It would have saved him letting out his emotions in strong spurts rather than easy and gently … also saves him from letting it out in anger-"

"But that's what men do, 'Mione! We let it out when we feel like it!"

"Well that's stupid! It's not healthy!"

"No, you're stupid!"

"SILENCIO!"

Ron and Hermione clutched their throats simultaneously, mouths moving with not a sound escaping. Ron looked confused while Hermione threw an annoyed look at Rose, who held her wand in a grumpy sort of way.

"Nine o'clock in the bloody morning," she said darkly. "Nine. Bloody. O'clock. Way too bloody early to argue. And you're arguing over something so little! Your angry vibes are piercing through my head, giving me a huge headache. Now _please_, be decent and give me sleep."

She gave a nod and turned around sharply, heading upstairs with a slumped posture. Harry looked into the kitchen, feeling slightly amused, and looked at a disgruntled Hermione. She pointed her wand at her throat and Ron's.

"We were not arguing over something little," she retorted in a moody small voice.

Ron rubbed his throat. "So - err - morning Harry."

Harry sat down opposite Hermione. "It is over something very little, Hermione. Rose is right."

Hermione sipped her tea, still looking annoyed.

"Tea, Harry?" said Ron, pointing to a pot.

"Sure," replied Harry, taking the pot. "So what are we doing today?"

"Well I was wondering if we could go over defence stuff," said Ron, buttering some toast. "You know, seventh year stuff, and stuff that can help us in the long run."

"Cool," said Harry. "Has any post come yet?"

"You only wrote to her two days ago," said Hermione. "She may need some time."

Ron frowned. "Women." Hermione threw another annoyed look.

Harry sensed the tension between them. "Who knows. Anyway, defence sounds cool, maybe Rose can help us. I think she has stuff we can practice on, like we had in the room of requirement."

"I think we should try silence spells," said Hermione. "They seem quite useful."

"What about trying to throw off the unforgivable curses?" said Ron.

Harry frowned a little. "I don't really know … crucio isn't something you can easily throw off. It just hurts like hell."

"Plus I doubt I'd want to cast any of them on you two," said Hermione. "No matter how much either of you annoy me." She cast a look at Ron. "I found a couple of books on what we could do to practice, with some good tips."

"Well we'll do that after breakfast I suppose," said Harry. "Shame there isn't a Quidditch pitch around here-"

"But Harry," interrupted Hermione. "Even if there was, it would be too dangerous for you to go!"

"'Mione, he's just saying" said Ron. "Anyway mate, I'm sure we'll find you something snitch like to play with."

"Or I could hover myself," suggested Harry, with a grin.

Hermione looked annoyed at the silly suggestions. "Now _really_ Harry, you should concentrate on what's ahead."

She stood up promptly, placing her plate and mug in the sink, still looking annoyed. Harry could have sworn she stamped the ground a little as she walked out the room.

"Bit moody, isn't she?" said Ron. "Must be near her time of the month."

The pair in the kitchen looked at each other then said, "Women," and chuckled.

* * *

Rose joined the three in her library when she looked properly woken up and dressed. She had completely forgotten about the incident but still had random times when she'd suddenly snap at someone. Harry realised it must be because of Hermione's sudden foul mood, and Rose had caught bits of it.

She had an indestructible doll they were aiming at, which reminded Harry of one of the dolls Aunt Petunia used to make dresses on. They were using simple spells on the doll silently, Hermione who was almost making tears in the doll with her anger. Ron looked a little uncomfortable and shifted slowly away from her.

Along the way, Rose gave advice, even to Hermione (who gave a dark look when she was corrected) and even a story or two. She talked about the Hogwarts professors highly, and even mentioned Professor Snape to be one of her favourites.

"I liked his sarcasm," she said. "It made me laugh. He found it really odd that I found it funny, and after time he made it more comical, and even a little smirk could be seen."

"Wow, he must have really liked you," said Ron.

"Who else did you like?" asked Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore, of course," said Rose. "Who I could never call Albus, not ever. I had too much high respect for him. Minerva was really great - she even taught me about animagi. I am a griffin animagus."

"Wow," said Hermione, astounded. "There are many wizards who would dream to be one!"

"It took me years," said Rose. "But ever since I read about it, I wanted to be one. I wanted to be a naturally born one, maybe like a metamorphagus. I hate being an empath, to be honest."

"Why?" said Hermione. "You should embrace it."

"Embrace it?" said Rose with high eyebrows. "To be constantly surrounded by emotions all the time? Having to build a barrier to it? It took me years to learn." She sighed. "I guess when learning to do that, I wanted to learn magic. It's like having a protective bubble. Being an animagus is the way I want to be."

Harry tried to have pity on Rose but instead, had a wave of annoyance hit him. He blinked and stepped back.

"Sorry about that," said Rose, noticing. "See why I hate this power sometimes?"

"It can be used for great things," said Hermione sympathetically.

"Sure it could," said Rose. "I like to advice people and care for them. I want to understand them. But I don't want to feel what they're feeling, not that purely anyway. Why do you think I seemed more tired this morning? I needed more sleep. Hermione, the truth is I'm always tired."

"So it is a curse?" said Harry.

"To those who cannot appreciate, yes," replied Rose. "Like that scar of yours. However you have found great uses for it."

"It was because of it that my godfather is dead," said Harry darkly, a pit of depression erupting beneath him.

"That was his choice," piped up Hermione. "Remember?"

There was a long silence, which was broken by Ron, who had looked awkward for a long time.

"I fancy tea and biscuits," he said hurriedly. "Anyone want one?"

"I'll come help," said Harry, still feeling a little dull after the mention of Sirius.

The two got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. Harry could see Ron was trying to look at him in an inconspicuous way, trying not to look in pity. Harry walked over to where Ron was by the kettle, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm all right mate," he said softly to Ron.

"I know," he said, with a smile. "Even if I don't admit it, I still feel a little protective of you - like a brother, I suppose."

Harry chuckled. "You have enough brothers to be a brother to."

"I know," replied Ron, watching the kettle intently. "But you are a damn good brother."

They both fell silent. Harry realised that this had developed over the years, and even Mrs Weasley had accepted him as her own son.

"And I'm glad you were like the brother I never had," said Harry after a while.

Ron smiled at Harry awkwardly then suddenly said, "Ah, it's ready."

Some minutes later, the two sat down at the table chatting with the tea, the girls joining them later. Hermione had seemed to have calm down, as did coincidentally Rose. They sat around the table civilised with their cups of tea and biscuits, discussing new spells they could use. After a long pause, Rose interrupted the conversation.

"Not meaning to invade privacy, Harry," she said. "But I was wondering if I could know about Ginny."

Harry smiled weakly. "You're the curious type, aren't you?"

"Always," replied Rose. "I would just like to know about your lives, that's all. You can even tell me how you all met, stories of your lives, whatever. I'm always quite open - doesn't mean you have to be, but I like hearing about other people rather than me for a change."

"Well there's not much to say," said Harry, looking into his tea. "She just liked me for a very long time, more for the fact I am a celebrity, then after finding out I had a personality, she liked me for that."

"She's my sister," said Ron.

"She dated other people and became more of a real person around Harry," said Hermione, sounding a little proud, possibly because it was her who suggested it.

"And after last summer, I realised I liked her," said Harry. "And it took me so long to get the courage to do something about it. We went out for a few weeks, then I broke it off because … of this." He pointed to his scar on his forehead, which was hidden behind a tangle of fringe.

"I see," replied Rose, looking truly interested. "Not the first time I've heard that story, neither is it the last." She smiled. "My favourite emotion is love. I would have thought it would be everyone's, but of course we are wrong about some things."

Harry had a flashback of what Dumbledore said. "If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love." This suddenly echoed the mourning he had for him.

"I think I'll make some lunch," said Rose. "What do you guys fancy? I think I have some sandwiches and cold slices of meat if you wish."

Ron looked at her, putting his hand over his stomach. As it had anticipated lunch, it was growling quite loudly.

"Pig," muttered Hermione under her breath.

Rose looked at Hermione. "Did you two _always_ fight?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I first met Ron on the train, and Hermione entered our compartment, being … well, not very appealing."

"Stuck up know it all you mean," said Ron, making Hermione look shocked. "First impressions, Hermione."

"And I thought you were just an idiot," snapped Hermione. "And Harry was one who I had read _so_ much about."

"Then came the Halloween feast," interrupted Harry, before Hermione could continue. "And Ron saved Hermione's life by hitting the troll over the head with it's own club."

Ron looked pleased with himself while Rose looked amused.

"And so for many, many years," continued Harry. "I've had to put up with these two, fighting like silly children, sometimes over petty things. They make up in the end, even if it does take them months."

"And finally they are together," said Rose. "I love these kind of couples, they're so exciting but a huge headache. Literally."

"I'm guessing you liked Muggle blokes then?" said Ron.

"Yeah, I did," replied Rose, looking dreamy. "But I want to meet a magical one for a change. Any kind of blood. Even a squib. I just want to meet someone who _knows_ the magical world."

She looked sad for a moment, then perked up.

"I know I will," she said softly. "I will."

She sipped her cup of tea.

"Lunchtime, anyone?"

* * *

Harry nestled into his bed that night, finding he could not get to sleep. He turned his light on and dug into his trunk, trying to find a book. Instead, he came across the old mirror Sirius had previously given him. Dusting it a little, he brought it back to his bed with an old album Hagrid had once given him, now filled with more photos of his parents and others plus his own pictures he had taken.

On the front of the album was a picture of a stag and lily he had put on himself some time after he had received it. The first page was his parents when they were very young, maybe eighteen, dancing around a tree. His mother looked very happy and was laughing a lot, especially when James swung her into the air. Harry wondered if he could do something like that with Ginny.

The next page had James and Sirius with a motorbike. Sirius did not have his long hair back then but a good length of hair that fell in front of his eyes, enhancing his handsomeness. Harry could not help but look in the mirror to see how much he looked like his father, as if he was just a slightly odd version of him. Anyone, if he was not famous, could have mistaken him for his father like he did in his third year.

He gripped the mirror in his hands and looked into it.

"If only you could help me now, Sirius," he said. "Why do all parent figures leave me?" He paused. "I guess I have the Weasleys for now. I hope they don't leave me."

He turned to the next page, seeing his parents wedding. He turned again, showing more pictures. His fingers sped through until he found the newspaper article of Ron in Egypt with his family, smiling gleefully at the camera. There was a twelve year old Ginny smiling back at him. Hastily, he turned again to show a picture of him and Ginny, taken by Colin some months ago, talking as they sat on their brooms in the air.

The book closed with a large snap.

"They'll never truly leave you."

That voice was right, Harry supposed. It was a good thing he had his conscience there.

"I'll never truly leave you."

Wait - that was not his conscience, was it?

"Down here, Harry."

Harry looked around the room quickly, looking to the floor, looking everywhere. What was that voice? He finally looked down on his bed and found his mirror had an image in it. He looked at it from a distance, finding it was only himself.

Or was it?

The lips of the picture moved. "Hello, Harry."

It was James Potter, Harry's dead father.


	6. Chapter 6:  James Potter

Hello fellow readers! Thank you for your reviews.

I have read the seventh book. Before I did so, I wrote down all my ideas for what I'm writing. I wrote them in a way that would be interesting to write rather than what is expected to happen (like Rose Leone existing or James Potter coming back in the mirror). However, there will be few details that I may have believed to happen.

So err … next chapter, then?

* * *

James chuckled at Harry's shocked face. Harry looked closely, found that the reflection did not bare a scar, and had mistakes in some places. He also looked a little older than Harry, and probably happier.

"Your Mum's eyes," said James, admiring Harry's features. "I don't remember that scar, though. Voldemort gave that to you then?"

Harry could not find the words to say. His father, as if alive, talking to him? It must be a trick, he thought, just like the Mirror of Erised.

"If this is any help," continued his father, noticing the silence from his son. "I'm not precisely your father - more of an echo, I suppose. You see, when Sirius fell through the veil, he took his mirror with him. We wanted to gain communication with you, so we used a lot of magic to get this through. What you are seeing in this mirror is probably a form of ghost."

"How long can you talk to me for?" asked Harry, still not believing what he was seeing.

"I'm not sure," replied James. "But I don't think it will be very long."

The father looked at his son sadly admiration.

"I'm sorry for leaving you," he said.

"You never left me," said Harry. "You defended Mum. You must have loved her."

"I did, very much," said James. "We are in a better place now. She is so wonderful, your mother. She was my light in Hogwarts. She also made me feel worthless, which lead to my maturation."

"Why did you do that to Snape?" asked Harry suddenly. "I mean - I saw a memory, you were hanging him in the air. I know you despise Dark Arts but going _that_ far? Kids - well specifically my cousin Dudley - did that to me. They bullied me."

Harry, for a moment, wished he had not asked him that question. It made him sound like he had a very low opinion of his father. James however did not seem angry at him.

"We were young and foolish," replied James. "And if I could see Severus now, I would apologise. Lily would want me to." He beamed back at his son. "It's good to know you're mature and have a heart."

There was a silence between them.

"Are you scared, son?" said James.

Harry bit his lip. "Honestly? Frightened. I don't understand how I am the wizard that saves us all."

"You won't be the only one," said James. "You will be one of a large wizard army. You just happen to be the one who destroys the opposition's leader, or so we hope. Your mum and I have a lot of hope in you. We believe you can do it - you are an amazing wizard, Harry."

"I'm not though!" exclaimed Harry. "I've survived with luck and help from my friends, especially Hermione. She's so clever, Dad."

"A close friend?" asked his father.

"One of my best friends," said Harry. "The other is Ron Weasley. Hermione is a muggle born. We're currently staying at the house of Rose Leone."

"Leone?" James paused to think, doing the same facial expression as Harry when he thought hard. "I knew Violet Leone. Talented witch. She was useful in the Order until she went into hiding. You see she had a child, and with no one else there but her, she felt that the needs of her child came first. No one ever discovered where she lived, until Voldemort did."

"Rose was two or three at the time," said Harry. "Did you know her dad?"

James frowned in thought. "You know, I never asked. I assumed her father was a Muggle or someone who got killed before Violet could marry him. She never wore a ring, you see, and Leone was her maiden name."

"Rose said that he was taken away by Voldemort," said Harry. "Err - also, do you know anything about Horcruxes?"

It had only just occurred to Harry that he had spent the last few weeks concentrating on defending himself and his mind rather than the Horcruxes. He had a feeling that Hermione had forgotten too.

"Not much, to be honest," said James. "I just know it's Dark magic and nobody should do it."

"Okay then … do you recognise the initials R.A.B.?"

James's face darkened. "Well I don't know about the middle name, but it sounds like Regulus Black to me. He was an awful brother to Sirius."

Several things in Harry's brain clicked. It had made sense. "Of course …"

"So, Sirius says you're good at Quidditch," continued James, ignoring Harry's utterance. "Seeker? You must have good reactions. Oh - got a girlfriend yet?"

Harry's heart burned. "Sort of."

James noticed his son's expression. "I was like that with your mum. If only I had been less of an idiot earlier."

"I'm being noble," said Harry. "I can't risk Voldemort taking her, Dad."

"I understand," said James softly, looking at his son sadly. "Just like me. Except I can't find any arrogance in you at all - unless you were once very arrogant and matured?"

"Snape always said I was like you in that way," said Harry. "But … I saw what you did to him, I would _never_ do that to anyone." He wondered whether it was right to say that too.

"And that's when you realised you're like your mum?" said James.

"Yeah, I guess," replied Harry. "But Sirius did say I was truly your son. I think I have your loyalty and bravery."

"And amazing Quidditch skills, of course," joked James. "Oh - I see your Patronus is a stag. I'm always with you, Harry."

"Do you watch me?" asked Harry.

"Sometimes," said James. "I try my best. Your Defence skills amaze me, and I knew with that O.W.L. examination you had it in the bag. I also saw your first Quidditch match - my son, a first year on a Quidditch team! I was very proud. I also saw when you deflected so many dementors with that one Patronus."

"And you saw me at Priori Incantatem," said Harry.

"Yes," said James, raising his eyebrows a little. "It seems I watch you when you feel me inside you the most."

There was a silence that hung between them, Harry diverting his eyes. This conversation still felt quite surreal to the young wizard. His face screwed up in thought, struggling to find out what to say to his father as it was a once in a lifetime chance.

"Never give up," said James, finally breaking the silence. "Well - I know you won't, but I thought I might remind you. Your mum and I are incredibly proud of you, proud that such an accomplished wizard is our son. The Boy Who Lived. You defied Voldemort more times I did and at such a young age."

"Luck and help from friends," said Harry bitterly.

"Pure Gryffindor courage," said his father encouragingly. "Selflessness that gained a Philosopher's Stone. Loyalty that gained Godric Gryffindor's sword. You spared Peter's life -" His father paused, looking blank, probably not sure on what to say on the subject. " - one of the top in the Triwizard tournament, ahead of older students. You saved Dudley's life, despite the fact you dislike him. He beat you up as a child, and here he was near death, and you _saved_ him, not for fame or glory but because you cared. And you did it with a Patronus, which is hard to produce even with sixth years. Achieved in your third year. Oh yes, Dumbledore told me of all your adventures. To be a great wizard is more than magic - it is the person themselves. You are selfless, loyal and ever so brave."

James's shoulder moved, as if he tried to put an arm on his son, but sighed when he realised he could not. Harry recognised the gesture and smiled, almost near tears.

"I'm guessing Sirius gave you the mirror?" asked Harry. "He would have rather you talk to me rather than him on this one chance?" He suddenly felt a little stupid changing the subject like that, but he hoped his father knew he appreciated what he said.

"He met you when you were thirteen up until the point you were almost sixteen," said James. "He felt, as I only had watched you a little and saw you as a baby, I should talk. I wonder if - if I could get your mother here -" He turned his head. "Lily! Lily!"

A flash of red hair was seen, then a face. Harry immediately recognised his green eyes, except they were on his mother's face. She smiled, Harry realising how beautiful she was.

"My son," she whispered, her head squeezed together with James. "He looks just like you. Except he has my eyes."

"A lot of people say that," said Harry.

"How did Petunia treat you?" Lily's face darkened a little.

"She gave me food and clothes with a roof over my head," said Harry. "I was quite happy with that, and quite happy being out of their way."

"She never gave you an ounce of love, did she?" said Lily, slightly annoyed. "Ever since that Hogwarts letter … oh, she was so jealous that _I_ was the daughter who went off to a magical school, _I_ was dubbed the 'favourite' - completely tosh, she was always the favourite. Oh, and _I_ was the reason our parents died."

"Now, now, Lily."

Lily's eyes welled with tears. "I don't understand why she had to be so jealous. Was it because I abandoned her about eight months a year? We got on so well together as children … then I was dubbed the _freak_ …"

"Lily, she probably regrets what she did," said James. "Right, Harry?"

"I think so," said Harry, wondering if he was telling the truth.

James gave Lily a kiss on the forehead as she fought back the tears.

"Anyway - enough of that," said Lily, blinking a lot. "How is Alice? Neville's mother, I mean. We were very good friends."

"She's still insane, as is Frank," said Harry.

"Oh," said Lily softly. "I was hoping they could have found a cure by now. And Neville?"

"He's a bit forgetful," said Harry. "And he's not very confident. But he has some bravery and he's becoming more confident in his magic. He's trying to live up to his parents' name."

"You said you know a Weasley?" asked his father.

"Yeah," said Harry. "The best family I could _ever _have, apart from you."

"I'm glad," said his father. "I'm glad someone could replace us."

"No one could ever replace you," said Harry. "You are my parents. You will always be my parents. You will always be the parents who sacrificed for me."

The door opened. "Harry? Are you talking to someone?" It was Hermione.

"Who's that?" said Lily. "A girlfriend? Please tell me you have a girlfriend."

"He 'kind of' has one," said James. "Well, do you want to introduce us?"

The picture was starting to get faded; the magic was starting to break. Hermione came behind Harry and poked her head of Harry's shoulder.

"Why can I see your parents?" said Hermione, a little concerned. "This isn't - a trick, or something?" She tapped the mirror with her wand and muttered something. "Hmm - seems … real …"

"She's a clever one, she is," said James. "Is this Hermione?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "This is Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born, and the best in our year. Just like you, Mum."

Lily beamed. "It's nice to know our kind get recognition. Nice to meet you."

Hermione blushed a little. "Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Potter."

"W-Whatsgoinon?" said a murmur from the door. "Whaareyetwodoin?"

"Ron, over here, my other shoulder," said Harry.

Ron did what he was instructed, and his eyes widened. "Wow, Harry."

"Ah, a Weasley," said James. "I can tell by the red hair. You look a bit like Arthur. So this must be Ron?"

"Yeah," said Harry. The picture was starting to fade a little more.

"Your eyes," muttered Hermione. "I know what people mean, now."

Lily smiled. "I'm glad I've left something behind. Are you both Gryffindors?"

Hermione nodded earnestly; Ron yawned as he gave a half hearted one.

"So where's your girlfriend?" said Lily. "Or the 'sort of' one?"

"She's my sister," said Ron.

"I -" Harry looked across at Ron and then back to the mirror. "I had to break things up. I didn't want Voldemort to get to her. I think he's killed enough loved ones already."

He felt the intensity of his parents gaze at that moment. "And these two insisted to travel with you?" asked James.

"Apparently," said Harry. "And I am thankful, even if they bicker all the time." His friends next to him laughed a little.

The picture faded more, Harry's parents' faces recognising the loss of communication.

"Listen," said James. "Thank you for helping our son."

"He's our best mate," said Ron. "It's our job to do so. And Gryffindors stick together, right?"

"Some do," said Harry darkly, thinking of Peter.

"I think you can trust these two," said James. "The only reason Peter hung around us was for recognition. And for some glory, he joined the Dark side. That rat."

"He was ever so nice," said Lily sympathetically. "Be careful, you three. Harry - we are your guardians. We're always with you. Just think of us and you'll feel supported."

"Harry," said James. "You will complete your task, I know you will, whatever that is. I know you won't fail."

"We both love you very much," said Lily. "We always have and always will. I'm sorry we couldn't raise you."

Harry was speechless, his lip trembling.

"I was always told you - you were amazing, talented," said Harry. "I'm p-proud to be your son." He let a tear drag down his cheek. "I - I -" He sighed.

"We know," whispered Lily. "It's a shame you didn't get enough of it."

His parents beamed at him one last time, and then disappeared completely. Harry's hands shook now as he held the mirror, then gently laid it on the bed. He felt Hermione's arm around his shoulders.

"I couldn't say it," said Harry, feeling stupid.

"You've never said it to anyone," said Hermione. "It's not a natural thing to you."

"It's not a really blokey thing either," said Ron. "When did you ever hear me say it to anyone?"

Both had made fine points, but Harry did not feel any better.

"They're amazing," he muttered pointlessly. "Absolutely amazing. And that one chance to talk to them is something I will always remember. How could they think I would replace them …" Harry stopped, realising he was muttering.

"They must be amazing," said Hermione. "To do what they did for you. Just remember to succeed like they would have wanted and believed you would, so their sacrifice lead to something great."

Harry forced on a tiny smile. "I will. I will Mum, Dad. I will make you so proud."

He suddenly felt very tired. The clock on the bedside table read three fifteen.

"Well we're going to bed," said Hermione, leaping off the bed as did Ron. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," said Harry softly. "Thank you …not just for this, for everything."

Ron patted Harry on the shoulder. "Thanks for giving our world a little bit of hope, mate."

Harry's best friends smiled at him and closed the door. Smiling, Harry tucked his belongings away, except for the picture of his young looking parents, smiling. He put the picture on the bedside table, slid into bed, and turned the light off with his wand. Closing his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep. He slept better than he had done in a while, and without a single nightmare.


	7. Chapter 7: A Change of Scene

Thanks for the encouraging reviews! J Next chapter … I'm not really sure if I'm happy with this one, to be honest, but I'll give it a shot!

-

Ron and Hermione were playing chess at the kitchen table. Harry noticed how infuriated Rose was looking nearby, probably due to the fact Hermione was losing chess, again. Her face was very calm looking, so Harry assumed she had become very good at acting. Suddenly, Rose emitted some kind of sphere around herself and then happily smiled.

"Bloody hell Hermione," she said. "It's _only_ a game, and you beat him in everything else, so why worry?"

Hermione finally showed her annoyance, shooting it straight at Rose, then fell off her chair as it reflected back at her. Rubbing her head, Hermione got up, looking apologetic.

"I didn't realise I was that annoyed," she said quietly. The door bell rang. "Oh … I wonder who that is. No one has sent me an owl, and I haven't sent one either."

It was true; the only owl they ever received was Hedwig, Ginny's answer absent with a letter from Mrs Weasley instead. She simply wished them good luck on their quest ('whatever it is') and sent some cake.

Rose approached a small box in a wall, speaking to it, "Who is it?"

"I am Tom Riddle. I was wondering if we could … have a chat?"

Rose turned to the other three. "Did you invite him?"

"It's him," said Harry. "It's Voldemort. _Lie_ to him."

Rose, looking panicked, turned back to the box. "If you just give me a moment, I'll let you in."

The high pitched voice at the other end chuckled. "I think you have something of ours, Miss Leone. You cannot hide from me, your defences are _weak_."

Harry turned around, seeing that Hermione had already shrunk and lightened a trunk. It seemed that, without him noticing since the name Tom Riddle was mentioned, that Hermione had immediately packed things they needed.

Rose turned to them. "My cupboard upstairs it the only place in this house you can disapparate from. _Run_."

Harry stood up, drawing out his wand. "We can't leave you behind."

Rose pushed him back with a little of her anger. "Harry, stop being so bloody noble and leave me. I will be fine. Now _go_."

Harry felt Ron's arm tug him up the stairs, panic filling up within him. Would Rose be fine by herself? Was she a competent enough witch? She had occlumency powers that Voldemort would want, but he may kill her because she was an empath; he could kill her because she can use emotions against him.

The trio found the cupboard Rose spoke off and squashed into it, waiting in silence. They heard the front door creak open.

"Let's go back to Grimmauld palace," whispered Hermione. "You first, Harry."

"I can't leave her," whispered Harry, still panicked. He tried to calm himself down, knowing that Rose may feel it.

"Where is he?" he heard from downstairs.

"He is not here, he is gone from this place," said Rose sharply. "Now leave this place. I have no services to give you."

"You would be an excellent Death Eater," Voldemort continued. "Your parents would be _so_ proud."

"Work for you? After what you did to my parents?" Rose laughed coldly. "You took them away from me. I grew up _never_ knowing them."

"And I share you grief," said Voldemort. "I too grew up without them as my mudblood father left me."

"That's interesting," said Rose, sounding slightly amused. "You want to rid the world of these mudbloods, yet you have some of it in yourself? What a hypocrit you are."

"I did not choose to be who I am," snapped Voldemort. "How dare you say that to me. CRUCIO!"

Her scream pierced through Harry, and it felt like some of the pain was inside of him. He tried to get out of the cupboard, but both Ron and Hermione were gripping onto him. A glare from his eyes went to them, and they still would not let go. The screaming finally stopped, and a sound of a body collapsing was heard.

"Severus, take her," snarled Voldemort. "Stupid child."

"She has been mislead, my Lord," said Snape calmly. "I will teach her the way."

"Very well," said Voldemort. "Now the rest of you, search the house."

Harry's hand found the door handle, but he felt himself being dragged away, as if he was apparated …

He fell to the floor of Grimmauld palace, annoyed. Hermione grabbed hold of his arm.

"It's too late, Harry," she whispered, looking sad. "She'll be fine. They didn't kill her, which probably means they'll keep her alive."

"And brainwash or use imperio on her," said Harry darkly. "This is my fault."

"No it isn't," said Hermione, who let go of his arm. "They somehow found us."

"Maybe Snape told him," said Ron.

"Or my owl was traced," said Harry. "Oh God, Hedwig! She's still there!"

He apparated back to Rose's house and immediately opened the cupboard door. Staring back at him was the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. She smiled wickedly, in which Harry panicked, fumbling back into the cupboard. He apparated back to Grimmauld palace with the Death Eater on his arm. Hermione tore his arm off her, and grabbed both Ron and Harry, apparating them somewhere else. Again, Harry stumbled, but this time he almost hit a tree.

"We can't return there anymore," said Hermione. "Was it just me or was it empty?"

"The Order seem to operate from everywhere now," said Harry. "Remember we never had full meetings at the Burrow? They just communicate with messages."

"Where are we?" asked Ron.

"In a forest near Godric's Hollow," said Hermione. "I don't know if the house is safe anymore, Harry." She bit her lip anymore. "If they found us that easily … well, they've suddenly become very powerful. There hasn't been a government take over, thank goodness."

"Not yet," said Ron. "It won't be long."

"Why don't we go to the cave Sirius stayed in?" said Harry.

Hermione nodded. "Let's go, shall we?"

The three held hands and disappeared, reappearing at the entrance of the cave. They muttered 'Lumos' and wandered down the cave, finding that it was completely empty. Looking satisfied, Hermione starting spreading out protection spells.

"Bit cold, isn't it?" said Ron, looking around. "I better start a fire … no wood though."

Hermione spun around. "No _wood_? Are you a wizard or not?"

Harry grinned; he remembered their first adventure those six or so years ago. Ron spluttered.

" … Maybe?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, looking around the cave more. Harry joined Ron as a small fire was lit, spreading out light to the corners of the cave. Hermione sat down by the fire, withdrawing her small trunk, expanding it. She picked it up as if it was a feather and opened it, revealing some food and a bundle of books. The trunk reminded Harry of Moody's trunk, with the amount of compartments.

"I have a little food in here," said Hermione. "Which I can duplicate. I can refill cups to a point. I'm afraid we're going to have to ration a little." Ron's eyes looked desperately at her. "Oh for goodness sake Ron, do we have much choice?"

As she went through the trunk, Harry kept thinking of Rose and her screams. It was truly awful, and he felt guilt go through him: it was because of him that she was tortured like that.

Hermione had put a sneakoscope by the fire on a little box so they could watch it. She had placed a few more on the box, a couple which Harry did not recognise, as well as some cooking equipment.

"You reckon she'll be all right?" asked Ron, breaking the silence.

"I dunno mate," said Harry. "I just hope so."

The three sat by the fire for a long time, staring into it. Hermione had managed to bring some bread with her, which would last them at least a few weeks, and some corned beef. Ron's face scrunched up in disappointment, but when seeing Hermione's face, his showed the opposite of how he felt.

"I decided to bring some things that aren't perishable," she said. "I can charm the bread to not go stale, luckily." She pulled out some water. "I have some Muggle money with me in case we need to buy anymore, but we'd have to use polyjuice potion for that."

"Which we have?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione, blushing. To avoid further questions, she busied herself in looking through the trunk for some rather thick books. Harry saw a flash of _Hogwarts: A History_ and rolled his eyes.

Harry lay back on the sleeping bag Hermione had laid out for him, looking at the ceiling. Yawning, he slowly closed his eyes, slipping into nothingness …

It was a dark room, except for the small fire in the corner. A hooded man was kneeling in front of him.

"My Lord, what will you do with the woman?" He sounded oddly familiar.

"I have not confirmed my plans yet," hissed a voice. "But it is most likely I will use her as bait. The boy will not want to resist a captured innocent."

"What if he does not fall for this?" asked the hooded figure.

A dark cackle filled the room. "Then I will take whatever he holds dear, whatever that is. Unfortunately Severus cannot inform me on anyone else he could think of, except for the Mudblood and Weasley boy."

A snake crawled across the floor. "_Severus arrives."_

"Ah, very good Nagini." A knock was heard. "Come in, Severus."

Snape through the door, looking very tired as he approached the fire. He had a couple of tears at the bottom of his robes.

"My Lord, I have news."

"News, Severus?" The speaker sounded very pleased. "What news do you bring?"

"The army of giants and Inferi are ready. We are also gaining more numbers of werewolves, thanks to Fenrir Greyback."

"Good. Any news on the boy?"

"None. The girl won't tell me anything, probably because they apparated to somewhere she did not know about. As you know, Bellatrix was able to apparate to Grimmauld Palace where his father was. This could be the headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, except that they probably sense our breaking in and will completely abandon the place. Since the death of Dumbledore, they have not visited the place as often as they used to."

"Very well. Well done, Severus. You may go. Actually … bring the girl. I wish to speak to her."

"What of, my Lord, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I shall ask her if she may consider joining. I won't harm her, Severus, not permanently anyway."

Snape looked a little nervous at this comment. "She will refuse, whatever torture you put onto her."

"We can still try. I sense you care about the girl, Severus?"

"She was a fine student, worthy of Slytherin house. One of the best I ever taught, and she has a good sense of humour."

Snape lingered his eyes for a few moments over the snake which was crawling on the floor. It was a long silence while the speaker paused to think.

"If she was worthy of Slytherin house, then she will consider joining," he said. "Silly Dumbledore and his staff teaching her the ways of appreciating _Muggles_…"

Snape nodded, understanding what he needed to do next. He went out the door, leaving the hooded figure watching his wake.

"Do you still trust him, my Lord?" said the figure, sounding anxious.

"I do. He has done a lot of work and given very good information." A smirk spread across his face. "He will help me in the downfall of Harry Potter."

"Let go of me. I can walk myself, thank you _Severus_."

Rose walked through the door and stood in front of the fireplace.

"So, your name is Tom Riddle, is it?" she said calmly. She had grazes across her face.

"Crucio."

She sunk down to her knees, struggling not to let out any screams, not to give him any pleasure in her pain. A yell finally escaped her mouth, in which the Dark Lord laughed. With a swish of a wand, the spell finished, leaving Rose to collapse onto the ground.

"I am Lord Voldemort. That named died with my Mudblood father."

"Murder, was it?" said Rose weakly, but with a challenging tone. "You like murdering fathers, don't you?"

"He was a bad man," snarled Voldemort. "And what do you imply by that, young woman?"

"Well, you know what you did to my father," spat Rose.

A smile crept across Voldemort's face. "I do."

"I never knew him because of you."

Rose stood up again, feeling for another cut on her arm. Her eyes were intent, a burst of emotion filling the room, making Voldemort flinch.

"Protego!" he cried. "How dare you use your powers against me."

"I'm ever so sorry," said Rose in a patronising way. "It's just ever so natural. I can't help it, you know, if I want to express my feelings."

"Love is weak," said Voldemort. "Dumbledore, a man who supported the emotion, dead. That shows what it really is."

"May I remind you," continued Rose coolly. "That this _silly_ emotion saved Harry Potter's life? He told me. He told me about your friendly past with him."

"Has he told you of any future plans?" said Voldemort.

"None," replied Rose. "He wouldn't tell me. He just wanted me to help him defend himself."

Voldemort concentrated on her eyes. "You are an Occlumens, how can I tell if you lie or not?"

"Feed me Veriteserum if you must. I tell the truth."

"Such cheek. CRUCIO!"

With that curse, Harry opened his eyes sharply, finding that Ron and Hermione were looking at him. Hermione had a hand on Harry's chest, probably trying to make Harry wake up.

"Mate," started Ron. "Are you okay? You were moving and twitching and shouting. Yelling at one point."

"I can see what Voldemort sees," said Harry. "He was - was torturing Rose. He's going to use her as bait, and then go after anyone else I know. Snape's supplying information … they could capture you too. Snape hasn't mentioned anyone else, but I don't think he knows about anyone else …"

His thoughts switched to Ginny, being tortured by the curse … he hoped the letter did not fall into the wrong hands …

"Snape is being rather protective of Rose," said Harry. "It's as if she's Malfoy."

"Then he'll talk to her like he does to him," said Hermione. "Convincing him to join. She might have a chance at staying alive."

Harry felt a pang of guilt; it was because of him that she was in this mess.

"You two should leave me," said Harry. "He'll come and get you too."

"He'll get me anyway," said Hermione. "I'm a Mudblood, remember? And he'll probably try to torture or bait us. Plus, we've promised to be with you through and through, right Ron?"

"Right," said Ron confidently. "So don't argue with us, mate."

Harry went silent, knowing he could not argue with them. As they went to look in the trunk more, he poked the magical fire with his wand, which did not burn. He sighed and crawled into his sleeping bag, hoping not to dream of anymore of Voldemort's doings.


End file.
